


Stolen Kisses

by cosimascully



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-17 14:36:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3533006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosimascully/pseuds/cosimascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Their first kiss is slow; taken from him when he least expects it. A stolen moment in time, one that he doesn't believe he deserves. As they dance together, she leans her head up, accidentally letting their lips brush together. She blushes, stammering apologies, saying that she didn't mean to, she's so, so sorry."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stolen Kisses

Their first kiss is slow; taken from him when he least expects it.  A stolen moment in time, one that he doesn’t believe he deserves.  As they dance together, she leans her head up, accidentally letting their lips brush together.  She blushes, stammering apologies, saying that _she didn’t mean to, she’s so, so sorry._  The Doctor lets her make the excuse, though he knows her well enough by now to see right through her. It was an accident, to be sure, but not one that she regrets. She thinks he doesn’t like what happened though, so she doesn’t push him.

Nothing could be farther from the truth, however, for all the Doctor can think of is his Rose, and the way she tilted her head up, just as he tilted his down, how their lips met and how for a moment, they were connected, really connected.  He sits in the captain’s chair, thinking, while she is asleep, of this moment.  Wondering what to do of it.  It has been days since the incident, but it still plagues his thoughts, haunting his mind.  He wants more, he always has, but his carefully constructed rules hold him back.  He cannot love like this, cannot feel for anyone.  Having human emotions will just lead to ruin when it turns disastrous.  It will make the pain more acute, make the ache in hearts all the more sharp, when it falls to pieces.

He cannot help himself though, not with Rose.  She is too addictive, to entrancing.  And try as be might to avoid her, she will never quite leave his thoughts.

Their second kiss is no accident.  It has been weeks since the first, and Rose has almost stopped thinking about it.  They are in the TARDIS, having a picnic in the console room.  It is no ordinary picnic, though.  The Doctor has flung open the doors of his ship, revealing the beautiful Eagle Nebula, and they sit in the doorway, gazing at the wondrous sight.  Their feet dangle into space, a great expanse of nothingness below them.  The area they sit in is tight, and the Doctor has to wrap an arm around her in order to properly fit.  She isn’t complaining though, and neither is he.  She looks so beautiful, the light of the stars illuminating her hair and eyes, and the Doctor is brought back to the memory of their first kiss.  He idly thinks of it, and with the memory, an urge comes.  An urge to kiss her again. 

He does so, bringing his lips to her forehead, then her nose.  He loves the way her skin tastes beneath his lips– he has always wondered how she would taste; however, licking her to find out was against his rules– and he wants to find out if the flavor of her lips is the same as her skin, so he lowers his head a few inches, intent on finding out.

She is shocked by this, but pleasantly so.  She kisses him back, of course, and relishes the feeling of his tongue dancing in her mouth, her hands in his _great, really great hair_.  She finds the time, and the breath, at some point, to ask him what has brought this on, and he shrugs.  _Does there need to be a reason?_

Their next kiss only takes place a few hours after the previous one.  They are on a beautiful planet, one that Rose should be paying attention to.  She is dimly aware of flowers, and soft, colorful petals that dance in the wind and get underfoot, but she is mostly noticing the Doctor.  The way he strolls along, one hand in his pocket, the other in hers.  The light catches his face, his hair, as he glances down at her, and he looks like an angel without the wings.  She pulls him down to her, aligning their bodies, their lips.

He breathes in the scent of her.  It is even more intoxicating than usual, as they are on a planet filled with sweet smelling flowers.  The two scents mix together, putting his head in a fog.  Oh, why has he waited so long for this?  Now that he has given in, there is no going back.

They try to take it slow, not rushing into this relationship, though the Doctor hardly sees the point in this.  He loves her, she loves him, and neither of them will ever stop.  Their relationship is serious, but he abides by her rules, wanting to do this properly.  He takes her across the universe, on _dates,_ trying to amaze her like never before.  Now that they are together, each of these trips are even more special than before.

He shows her Paris, touring the city, seeing the sights, and ending the day with a dinner in the Eiffel Tower.  She is wearing a gorgeous black dress that makes her blonde hair look even more radiant, if that is possible.  She has never been more beautiful than this night.  Of course, the Doctor always thinks she looks _more beautiful_ every day, maybe that is because she seems to bloom a little bit more each moment, traveling with him.

He corners her, back on the TARDIS, by one of the coral columns, and snogs her for a solid ten minutes, hardly stopping for breath.  She leans against him, panting, her hair in complete disarray, thanks to the Doctor’s hands and fiddles, idly, with his tie.  She looks up at him, her expression dazzled and amazed.

The kisses that they exchange are frequent, now.  Whenever he feels the urge– which is quite often– he gives into it, leading to several interesting situations.  They have to set a few rules, for both their sakes.  _No snogging while saving the world_ , is one that the Doctor particularly dislikes, but abides by, because he has never been happier.  She has made him young again, given him joy that he certainly doesn’t deserve.  He wants her to be just as happy as him, and on some days, he thinks he succeeds. She is so full of life, so wonderful.

When they visit Rose’s mum, the Doctor tries to hold back, to keep up the pretence that all is platonic between them.  A day is too long, though, and he cannot help but wonder how he lived, before this.  Whilst doing the dishes, he sneaks up behind her, grabbing her by the waist, spinning her around.  She shrieks with laughter as he lifts her up onto the counter and moves between her legs, getting as close to her as possible.  He can feel the wood of the cabinet against his thighs, and Rose’s legs, wrapped partially around his waist, and her torso, pressed against his.  She winds her arms around his neck and kisses him intently, with purpose, focusing on the movement of his lips on hers.  Oh. _Oh._ She loves him, so much.

Her mum chooses that moment to walk in on them, and the Doctor springs apart from Rose, his face flushed.  Jackie is aghast, shocked, and assumes the worst, as he knew she would.  Of course, her idea of _the worst_ is the Doctor’s idea of _the best_ , but he doesn’t voice this.

After Rose partially convinces her mum that he is not taking advantage of her, or shagging her against the TARDIS console, they leave for home– the Doctor loves that she thinks of it as home– and Rose teases him, about the whole matter.  _You should have seen your face, Doctor!_   He finds that the best way to shut her up is to engage her mouth in other activities.  She doesn’t complain.

He wonders who he has become, nowadays.  He has always been the mysterious alien, distant and lonely.  She has made him someone new, though, someone free and happy.  She has brought love into his hearts again.

 _Love_.  He knows that’s what he feels, and he knows it’s what she feels too.  He has yet to tell her though.  Saying the words aloud is something else entirely from feeling the emotion.  He finds it difficult, as the words don’t seem enough.  Three words shouldn’t be able to sum up all the emotion he feels.

Still, this declaration almost slips out of him, on numerous occasions.  Whilst exploring her mouth with his tongue, he pulls back and the words are almost ready to come out.  Then, a week later, she stops an alien from destroying the Earth with just a few words, and his admiration for her cannot not be expressed in any other way.  He bites his lip, trying to keep his emotions in check, as is his habit.

He doesn’t know why he continues to abide by his old way of shutting down, since he has abandoned most other past behaviors like this.  Maybe it is because he is scared.  He has run all his life, and it is frightening to contemplate stopping.  But Rose… If he is to stop for anyone, it is her.

It is while he is thinking this that he decides.  Decides to tell her.  He feels nervousness pool inside him, and he suddenly realizes why these words mean so much.  They are more than the truth, they are his heart and soul, they are a great part of what makes him who he his.  By telling her, he will be giving her a piece of himself.  He has never done this, not with anyone, and saying those three words will make her the only being in existence who has claim on him.  The only.

She is in her room, and he walks in without knocking.  He has never been one for privacy between them, and his purpose for this conversation has scattered all thoughts of decorum and politeness.  Fortunately– _Weeell, possibly unfortunately–_ she is decent, and smiles at him.  He isn’t sure on how to start, so he just takes her in his arms and kisses her, passionately.

Surprised, she kisses back, and lets herself get lost in him.  The way his chest rises and falls against her as he breathes, the way he caresses her face, the way he runs his fingers through his hair, feels her body.  He pulls back, and looks her straight in the eye.  This is it.  He decides he needs no preamble, no explanation for his feelings.  No monologue on how she is his only light in this dark, dark world.  The three words, they will be enough.

_I love you._

She feels her eyes grow wide, and her stomach attempts a flip-flop, her heart tries to beat out of her chest.  She cannot speak; she is too filled with emotion.  So she pulls him to her again, connecting their mouths in a fierce kiss.  Then she is able to think again, and knows exactly how to respond.

_I love you too._

Unable to contain himself, he drags her down onto the bed, kissing her once more.  He is over her, his body suspended above hers, and he is snogging her senseless.  He moves down to her neck, her chest, then back to her lips, swirling his tongue over her skin.  She groans into his mouth, and the noise sets him off, making him want more, need more.  He feels his blood pound in his ears, and the next few moments are hazy, but then he is aware that he has somehow lost his shirt, and his trousers are in danger of going in the same direction.

For several hours, her room– _their room, now_ – is filled with sounds of pleasure, whispered words, soft caresses, and a rhythm that fills both their heads, pounding, rocking.  He has lost track of time, his troubles.  All he wants to do is lie with Rose, feel her beside him.  So he wraps his arms around her, feeling her bare skin beneath his fingers, and relaxes, for the first time in centuries.

She is his Rose, and he is, and always will be, her Doctor.  Forever.


End file.
